


love me tender

by babbyspanch



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: M/M, Mutual adoration, i just love them being tender with each other, ill tell you right now these bastards dont even kiss, old men pining, thinking each other hung the damn stars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-19 17:43:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17605967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babbyspanch/pseuds/babbyspanch
Summary: a quiet moment, when there aren't many of those to be had.





	love me tender

It’s a cold night. They are all cold nights, now. Stars bright, moon harsh, nothing in the air to get between the earth and the stinging heavens.

 

Sir John would have been pleased-- Francis always had colour in his cheeks now, bitten into them by the winds, unforgiving and brutal enough to steal his breath away. 

 

He was taking shelter from the sharp air in Fitzjames’ tent, as he did most evenings as of late. They shouldered this heavy burden side by side, and it made Francis grateful. If Atlas had someone as strong and unabashedly prideful as James at his side, carrying the world wouldn’t have been a penance at all. 

 

In fact, he mused, watching James speak--his eyes animated, hands steady-- it would have been more of a privilege.

 

He doesn’t notice something is amiss until James pauses in his words, his body going still.

 

James doesn't say anything, but he’s blinking too quickly, and his cheeks have the dots of colour that aren’t from the cold at all. Francis blinks, registering at last that his blunt fingers have found their way to James hair, where they are softly pushing strands behind his ear.

 

He has no idea when his hands decided that was the thing to be done, but now that he’s started noticing things he can’t seem to stop.

 

They’ve swayed close to each other, knee pressed against thigh on the flimsy cot. He’s leaning so close to James he can feel the way the other man’s breathing has gone shallow. They must have drawn together to catch each other’s words, every last drop of them. Francis can feel the weight of them in his chest, heavy and bright all at once. James’ breath ghosts across his lips and Francis feels himself jump.

 

He leans back-- taking his hand with him.

 

These intimacies have just become too liberal. The only problem is that the instant he turns away all he can see are James’ dark eyes blinking at him.

 

The second problem arises when James grabs his hand and tugs it, soft but insistent, back to his face.

 

Francis could swear he stopped breathing.

 

James hand slides up over Francis’ and holds it there, steady as ever. It’s just a hint bigger than his own, warm and solid.

 

Francis is returned to his place by James’ side, tugged in by the expression in his eyes, unfathomable and unnameable, but setting something alight in Francis as surely as James had struck a match across him. 

 

Slowly, holding the gaze, James turns his head, inch by aching inch and stills.

 

James breath swells across Francis’ palm and he feels that on fire thing inside him flare and tremble.

 

The winds rattle and thrashes against the sides of the tent, but to Francis the world was utterly still. Holding its breath in the way neither of the men in the tent seemed to be able to do. Francis’ was stuttering his out, harsh and grand one moment, staccato the next. He couldn’t stop himself from smoothing his fingertip over the deep lines in James’ face. It was slow, deliberate. Impossible to interpret as anything other than a caress.

 

He feels the line deepen under his fingers as James smiles up at him; quiet, private, liquid warm.

 

Francis felt  _ so  _ warm.

 

**Author's Note:**

> My friend dragged me here and honest to god i've never been so grateful to another human........ danny....... bless u.....
> 
> shout out to my boy pen for doin beta work had to repost w the fixes!!!


End file.
